


The dream prince

by LadyoftheCity



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slash, Underage Kissing, Violence, fairytale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheCity/pseuds/LadyoftheCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FairytaleAU. Merlin is a peasant warlock and Arthur is an oppressed prince. Both of them try to escape their destiny but it brings them together in the form of a lake and a lady who would make everything in her hand so that their dreams can become true. Merlin/Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on an Italian film called 'Sorellina e il principe del sogno' directed by Lamberto Bava. I used to watch it when I was a child and I loved it. I'm transforming it into a multichaptered story with Merlin as Alisea/Sorellina and Arthur as prince Demian. I intend to follow more or less the plot of the film but I will make quite some changes to adapt it to the Arthurian legend (and more precisely to BBC Merlin). Also, this is going to be a very long fic and I'm sorry to say it will take me quite some time to finish it. Please, just bear with me. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading!

Once upon a time, many many years ago, there was a young boy, little less than a fourteen years old child, but it had been a long time that the games had ended for him. His big blue eyes had seen a good deal of suffering and his lanky skinny pale form was used to the hard work even at that young age. In fact, the boy could only think of working in order to help his large family to survive. And, as you can imagine, being a woodcutter isn't an easy job.

As he hauled a small cart through the forest, the boy's thoughts were full of worries. Winter was nearer each day and he had to get enough wood to sell it in the nearest town, a small farming village called Ealdor. He didn't like cutting down trees. He had always felt a connection with nature due to the magic that throbbed inside him, but the little tricks he was barely capable of wouldn't provide him and his family with food to eat that winter and the money for the wood would. That's why he used his ability as a help so that his axe would bring down the trees quicklier.

It was his father who had been the woodcutter of that forest. And it was from Balinor too that he had inherited his gift. As magic was forbidden in most of the realms, his father had preferred to live in the forest as a poor peasant instead of exposing his ability to get riches. It had also been his father who had taught him the little he knew about magic so that he could control his powers. He used to told him stories of how one day he would be able to help the magical people restore magic to its right place. He used to call him 'Emrys', although that wasn't his real name. Nevertheless, the name seemed to have stuck with him because his siblings still called him that.

Anyway, Balinor died some years ago and then it was Hunith's, that is, his mother's turn to go to the forest and retrieve enough wood to give her six children a good start in life while Merlin (that was the boy's real name) stayed at home and took care of his little siblings. Despite having six children, Merlin was the only one who had inherited his father's gift, possibly because he was the first born, and he used it to help at home and sometimes he showed his siblings some tricks to keep them calm. They loved him for that but the whole family was well aware that they had to keep it secret due to those unfair laws against magic users.

However, that changed some months ago when Merlin noticed his little sister had started to show signs of possessing some kind of magical ability too. His mother and he were quite worried when they realised that her dreams proved to happen and they were at lost of what to do without Balinor's guidance. On top of that, his mother had been feeling very sick lately and she was currently bedridden. That's why Merlin was there cutting down some trees with an axe that would weigh too much for him were not for his magic.

“Emrys! Emrys!” that would be the shouts of his siblings that were running boisterously towards him. Merlin stopped the blows and looked at them. There they were: a ten-years-old responsible Will, an eight-years-old serious Lance, a seven-years-old determined Morgana, a five-years-old funny Gwaine and a four-years-old cute Daegal. Looking at them together, no one could have denied they were family since all of them had dark hair, rather pale skin and blue (like his mother's) or brown eyes (like his late father's).

His siblings quickly surrounded him when he knelt and tried to calm them down enough to understand something among all the gibberish they were babbling.

“I was right! I told you! It's the king's army!” an excited Morgana said. And Merlin did remember she told them about a dream where the king would come back from war and visit them followed by an army, but could it be true?

“Yeah, king Uther's army has come back,” Gwaine confirmed jumping a bit to capture his older brother attention.

“They have come back from war!” Will and Lance added at the same time.

“And they'll pass through our forest,” little Daegal supplied while he wriggled among his siblings to get to Merlin.

“Okay, okay,” Merlin said louder than all his siblings' shrill voices. “I told you not to walk away from home. You have left mother alone.” Merlin's tone was harder than he intended and his siblings looked a bit down, what made him feel bad since he adored them as much as they admired him. So, Merlin stood up and picked up the axe while he said more playfully this time. “Come on, let's get back home. What about a race?”

With Will and Lance's help, Merlin could drag faster the cart with the little wood he had got that day as Morgana and their younger brothers, Gwaine and Daegal, run ahead of them as if it were a game. Merlin preferred them to think that, but the truth was he didn't want to risk being out while the army of a magic hater king went through their forest. It could prove to be risky and he didn't like to leave his mother alone either, despite how much she insisted it was fine.

It wasn't really long before they reached the small but comfortable hut where they lived. After all, that forest had always been their home and they knew it like the back of their hands. Merlin sent all of his siblings inside with his mother and started to take out the wood from the cart, more calmed now that they were home, which provided some kind of protection.

Moreover, the Escetir forest was big enough so that the king didn't have to find them. The fact that Morgana had dreamt about it didn't mean that it had to become true. That reassuring thought proved to be wrong as soon as the sounds of hoofs could be heard from where Merlin was standing in front of the hut. He was getting more nervous by the moment. What if the king's men discovered he had magic? And if they wanted food or shelter? They hardly had enough for them.

The piece of wood in Merlin's arms slipped down when the form of a small group of riders approaching the hut was visible through the trunks of the trees that surrounded their home. He had no time to warn his mother and siblings before the riders were there. He prayed they would stay inside and let him handle this. He didn't want his mother or siblings to expose themselves. He felt he was the one he had to protect them since he was the most similar to the man of the house now.

Then, the riders stopped in front of him. There were around six or seven armed burly knights, all clapped in shiny chainmail and armour and looking rather imposing. The ugliest and scariest of them all was the one to address him. He had short black hair, hard brown eyes, a strong chest, thick arms and a menacing air.

“You, boy, where's you father?” he asked with a demanding tone while he approached him still riding his high war horse. “We have no time to lose.”

“My father is gone.”

The knight laughed loudly. “What a pathetic excuse! So he's afraid and sends us this little boy!” The rest of the knights accompanied him with more cruel laughs. But they died down rather quickly when the knight spoke again. “Tell him to come out quickly or he would end badly,” he ordered leaning down towards Merlin's face in a threatening way.

“He already ended badly,” Merlin answered with sadness in his voice. “He was struck by a bolt of lightning while working in the woods for his family. That's his grave.” And Merlin nodded towards the rudimentary tomb his family made for him a few meters away from the hut. It was only a big stone with his name on it and a bouquet of wild purple flowers beside it, but that's the better they could do for him apart from remembering him.

“And who's the woodcutter of this forest now?” the knight asked impatiently.

“Me.”

Merlin's declaration was received with more contemptuous laughs by the knights. After all, for them he was simply a scrawny little boy. However, the ugly knight seemed to be getting angrier by the moment. “To other with that lie!” he exclaimed and at his orders they started to register the little possessions they had outside the hut and in the small open granary attached to it. Thankfully, they didn't try to enter the house itself where his mother and siblings were. “Where do you have the animals? And your food provisions?” the knight shouted above Merlin's desperate pleading as he tried to calm them down.

“Please. No, please,” Merlin said in an attempt to prevent a knight from taking a big sack of flour he bought two weeks ago in Ealdor. The sack had to last them for all winter. They needed it to make bread. “Please, it's all we have for the winter.”

However, he couldn't stand a chance against six trained knights. He understood it quickly enough when the man he was trying to stop simply shoved him and he ended on the floor, unable to do anything. Tears of fury and helplessness started to appear in his eyes but he didn't let them spill down. He could use his magic. With some simple tricks he could overturn them. And then he would have to pay for it with his life and, God forbid it, with his family's.

No, he didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him crying and he didn't use his magic either. Instead, he calmed himself enough to stand up and say, “Please, my mother is very ill and my siblings are little. Just... just take whatever you want and leave.” It was a surrender, but it was also the smartest thing to do given his chances.

“Are you ordering me?” the ugly knight asked furiously. “I'm the king's second in command! How dare you?!” And he unsheathed his sword with a horrifying hiss that made Merlin's blood turn cold. His eyes opened widely when the knight rose his sword and readied himself to bring it down in a mighty stroke that would most likely cut Merlin down. He had to do something or he would die. Perhaps, he could use an easy trick to distract them or just run, but he was petrified. His last coherent thought was that Morgana didn't say she had seen him dying in her dream.

Then, he heard a voice say, “Valiant! Stop this nonsense!”

Thankfully, the scary knight obeyed and sheathed his sword, although reluctantly. And Merlin breathed out in relieve until he saw his saviour. The owner of the voice was no other than the king of Camelot himself, Uther Pendragon. And if the golden crown on his grey-haired head was not prove enough, his manners and the authority he exuded were good signals too.

Merlin didn't have much time to look at the imposing figure of the king, before he forced himself to lower his head and sight as a sign of respect for the sovereign. He might be a peasant but he knew how to behave when in presence of a royal. He wasn't going to give the monarch any reason so that he could discover his and his little sister's magic abilities. If showing humility was the price, he was more than glad to pay it.

“Why are we losing our valuable time with this ragged plebs?” the king asked with a sneer.

“I'm sorry, my lord. You're right,” the ugly knight replied respectfully. It seemed the only thing that could contain this monster's rage was the king and Merlin was grateful for that, although he could see that all the man's anger was nothing when compared to the king's cold blue eyes.

Merlin couldn't avoid taking advantage of their exchange to steal furtive glances to his majesty and the little retinue that accompanied him. Of course, they were all knights too, also with their good deal of armour, but this ones had banners with them: the golden dragon of Camelot embroided upon red fabrics. They really made an impressive sight, which didn't reassure Merlin in the least.

“The army has made camp. You, quickly, escort me back there. I don't want to lose more time. We have only three days more of travel and then we will be in Camelot.”

“Two, my lord,” Merlin provided.

“What was that?” the king asked a little annoyed. It was evident he didn't like when someone contradicted him.

The ugly knight's reaction was far worse. “How you dare speak back to the king himself, you little scum!” And his right hand went again to the pommel of his sword.

“Silence!” the king shouted. “And you, boy, tell me, what do you have to say?”

“My lord,” Merlin replied with as much respect as he could muster, “this year there hasn't been any earlier snowfall so you can travel quicklier.”

“Have you heard that, Valiant? I can't wait to get home. It's been a long time since I last saw my son, Arthur.” Merlin kept throwing confused glances at the king. Was he really such a good father that he was that eager to get back to his son? But the king appeared to be quite excited about the prospect. “If there isn't any snow, we could make it in a day. C'mon! Let's go.” And with that last order to his men he spurred his horse and left quickly, his red cloak flying regally behind him.

“You can keep your food,” the scary knight said as a goodbye. “It must be your lucky day, little boy!” And he also disappeared through the trees in pursuit of his king.

The rest of the knights started to leave and to Merlin's pleasure they didn't take the little food they had. The knight who had shoved him to the ground went as far as throwing the heavy sack back at Merlin's feet, muttering a venomously “Next time, you should be more careful about what you say, boy” and spitting at the ground, but he left with the other knights too.

Merlin just smiled and watched them go. “I hope there's no next time,” he said greatly relieved that it all had been a small fright and there wasn't any bad consequences.

When he turned around, he saw that his sick mother and little siblings were looking at him from one of the windows. They sported worried glances, but Merlin kept up his goofy grin for them as he straightened up the scattered provisions the knights had discarded and then made his way back to his family.

 

* * *

 

King Uther and his men were galloping hard through Escetir forest. The king wanted to arrive at Camelot as soon as possible. He had spent the last eight years with his army, fighting campaign after campaign against one of his most staunch enemies, king Caerleon. It had taken him many years and the lives of many of his men, but in the end Uther succeeded. Caerleon was dead and his queen, Annis, had surrendered the kingdom and accepted his terms.

Now, Camelot was bigger and richer. And he had a valuable ally in lady Annis who he had allowed to live in her castle and rule in his and Camelot's name. But the most important thing was that Uther had freed another kingdom from the cruel grip of magic. The fact that he now had another kingdom under his command was just a bonus.

However, among all the prices he had had to pay to win this battle, what most hurt him was that he hadn't been able to see his son and heir grow up and become a warrior. When he departed for war, Arthur was just a seven years old little boy who still had a lot to learn and couldn't barely hold a wood sword in his chubby hand. However, he would be older now. He would have grown taller and stronger. Now, he must be able to stand his ground against any of his knights. That made Uther feel proud, knowing that his lineage and legacy would continue in his son.

“My son, Arthur,” he said out loud, “he is my true prize for my victory. I'm really looking forward to seeing him again.”

“I'm sure he's as brave and strong as you, my lord,” answered Valiant, who galloped by his side.

“I can't wait to see the great warrior I have fathered,” Uther chuckled. “If he's anything like me, he would be tough and ruthless. A true leader!”

And so the sounds of thousand of hoofs echoed in the calm forest as the king continued his journey towards Camelot.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur Pendragon was a fifteen years old healthy boy. He took his light blue eyes, rather pale complexion and golden locks after his mother, the beautiful queen Ygraine, and that made him look more princely. As any royal, he enjoyed all the comforts that come with the position. He lived in a huge castle full of servants that attended his every whim, tutors that taught him everything an instructed person should know and a doting mother that loved him above all things.

As you can see, Arthur's life as a prince was an easy one. His only worries were learning his lessons for the day and attending the few court obligations he had, although he always worried for the well-being of his mother and his kingdom and he tried to help when possible. His passions were reading, writing and poetry. He loved to write his own poems and tales as a way to express himself since he barely spoke with his mother, his tutors, the sons of some nobles (not that he liked any of them) and Gaius, Camelot's physician and one of his father's most trusted advisers. But the truth was that he didn't have any real friend his age, so writing was a sort of a getaway for him – his only way of being himself and not merely a pretty prince.

His only sorrow was that he hadn't seen his father in a long time. King Uther Pendragon had been at war for years now and Arthur only had a hazy memory of him. He remembered greyish blue eyes, a stony face and how he always told him to be a brave prince and take good care of his mother. When he asked about him, everybody usually said that his father was a strict man, but a good king. Of course, that was what any of his subjects was supposed to say. However, his mother and, sometimes Gaius too, told him more things about him, such as how he was when he was younger or his heroic deeds as a warrior.

All that changed four days ago when an exhausted messenger informed the queen that king Uther was returning victorious from war and he would be there by the end of the week, which meant they needed to prepare themselves for the king's return and organize a great banquet to welcome him back. In the king's absence, it had been the queen's duty (with some help from advisers like Gaius) to rule in the king's name. His return would change that, as so many other things. And what worried Arthur the most was seeing him again. He couldn't avoid wondering stupid things like what would he think of him or how he should address him. Should he call him 'My lord' or was he allowed to call him 'father'?

Arthur sighed and forced himself to forget about that and concentrate on what he was doing at the moment. He was sitting in the windowsill of his big chambers overlooking the great courtyard where the main gates of the castle were watched by several guards and several servants milled around busy with their chores. He had a pen in his hands, a little board with a parchment on his lap and an open inkwell rested in the sill with him, everything ready for him to continue the poem he was trying to write as a way of welcoming his father back home.

However, his thoughts were keeping him from writing. What would his father think of his poem? Would he like it? More and more questions crowded into his head and he found himself incapable of writing anything worthy of being heard by a king. He was going to give up and leave for a stroll around the castle's gardens in an attempt to get some inspiration back when the door opened.

“Arthur, love, where are you?” queen Ygraine said sweetly while entering her son's chambers. She couldn't see him from the door since Arthur was in the windowsill of the inner room, used as a bedroom with a huge bed, several wardrobes, chests, small tables and a big desk; whereas the entrance door was situated in the main room which was a kind of lounge and it mainly consisted of a large table with some chairs and an enormous chimney for the cold winters. The rooms where separated by a wall and connected by two arches, although both of them were decorated in the red and gold of the Pendragon's house.

“I'm here, mother,” Arthur answered to make his presence known.

When she came into view he saw she wasn't alone. Ygraine was as beautiful as ever with his long golden hair combed back in a loose and elaborate bun and a light pink dress that brought out the sweetness of her delicate features. By her side stood old Gaius with a long brown robe and wavy white hair that framed a gentle wrinkled face from where a pair of light blue eyes always looked at him fondly. Arthur also found funny that the physician had the strange ability of rising one of his eyebrows impossibly high every time he found something disapproving or something was troubling him. The prince didn't know if today was the case but both his visitors seemed nervous.

“Arthur, a group of riders has been sighted very near Camelot. It seems that your father is with them,” his mother informed him.

Arthur was suddenly rendered speechless. “But then... then...”

“He will be in Camelot before the sun sets, sire.” Gaius continued with as much respect as ever, although the truth was that Arthur had always seen him as a fatherly figure due to his real father's absence.

“Then I'll have to finish it faster,” Arthur muttered.

“Finish what?” Ygraine asked curiously as she approached him and looked at the parchment in his hands.

“It's a poem,” Arthur replied shyly. His mother knew how much he enjoyed writing and she had even read and praised some of his works, but this time was different. This time he was doing it for his father and he wanted to share this poem with him. “I thought it would be a good way of welcoming father back.”

For a moment Ygraine looked back at Gaius and a worried look crossed their faces. But then it was over and Ygraine was saying kindly, “You don't have time for that, love. You have to prepare yourself to receive your father.”

Arthur frowned. Prepare himself?

“Her majesty is right, sire,” Gaius helped with a reassuring smile, “You should wear your ceremonial attire.”

And Arthur couldn't suppress a groan. He hated it. Despite the fact that winter was nearer each day, it was still warm and his ceremonial clothes included a thick hauberk, a pauldron, a gorget and a red long cloak which caused him to sweat profusely.

“Is it necessary, mother?” he whined. “You know I don't like those little warrior's clothes at all. I would rather greet him like this.” And he gestured towards the clothes he was wearing at the moment for good measure: comfortable brown breeches, a bright red cotton t-shirt with a leather belt and high boots. They may be simple, but they were of the best quality, truly fitted for a prince.

The queen and the adviser looked at each other again, this time with a doubtful expression on their faces. “Alright,” the queen conceded finally, “but be ready when it's time.”

“Thanks, mother!” the prince exclaimed happily and he leaned up a bit to kiss her mother's cheek in appreciation before turning his full attention to the parchment in his hands.

Then, Gaius approached the two royals and looked over said parchment with questioning eyes. “Are you going to finish your poem now, sire?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said with a smile. “I want to finish it before father comes. I would like to give it to him at the banquet tonight. I want him to be proud of me.”

New worried glances were exchanged but Arthur didn't notice them this time since some inspiration had struck him and he started to scribble rapidly once more. He barely had a few hours to finish a poem for a father he had long been waiting to see.

 

* * *

 

It was another day in the little hut in the middle of the Escetir forest where Merlin lived with his family. However, his little siblings and even his mother couldn't stop talking about king Uther's visit the day before. Thankfully, their incessant prattle died down a bit when Merlin retired the pot from the fire and took it to the small wooden table crowded by all of his siblings. Then he started to serve the stew he had prepared to have dinner that night. Now, all that could be heard were five piercing voices saying at the same time “Here, Emrys”, “Serve me first” or “Give me some more”.

But Merlin didn't blame them. They were still children and he knew from his own experience how horrible could be being hungry so he tried to be as fair as possible and served them their good share of stew. And when the quarrels about who had more stew started, he just used his magic to enchant a spoon and his siblings laughed merrily as it moved from plate to plate feeding each one in turn. He didn't mind at all that it raised a ruckus or that he would be the one to clean the mess the spoon was making. He liked to see his siblings happy. That always brought a smile to his face and made his day more pleasant.

He left them wolfing down their meal with the enchanted spoon dancing around them and served another plate of stew for his mother. He still felt bad about the fact that she had got out of bed to see what was going on. It was all the fault of those brute knights and that ugly man. However, Merlin felt grateful that the king had intervened and they could keep their provisions for the winter. Uther had the reputation of a cruel king and a magic hater, but Merlin had to admit that in their case he had acted as a fair man. That didn't mean that if he had discovered his and his little sister's abilities, he would have had them burned at the stake.

Merlin shuddered at that horrible thought as he brought the stew to his mother. She had returned to bed due to Merlin's insistence. It was in a smaller room separated from the rest of the house by two steps and a handrail since the hut was built upon irregular soil. It was mainly made up of the upper floor (if you could call it that), where his mother rested in the biggest bed they had, and the slightly bigger main floor, where they had the chimney to cook and warm themselves, a table with some chairs, several cupboards and chests and some smaller beds for the rest of them. A little granary was attached to the right side of the house. It had no doors and they only used it to keep the wood they cut down and some provisions, but they didn't had to worry about people wanting to steal they meagre possessions – except for those stupid knights the day before, there had never been any incident of that kind.

Merlin sat down beside his mother in the edge of the bed and held the plate out for her with his best goofy smile. He didn't want her to worry over anything. Not in her state. They didn't know exactly what was happening to her, but it seemed that her heart was too tired and any effort left her exhausted. Of course, Morgana had dreamt about their mother in bed before Hunith started to get ill, but as she was still a child she didn't understand how serious it was. The fact that his sister had never dreamt about her getting better also troubled Merlin, but there was nothing else he could do. Not even his magic was enough to help since he didn't know any healing spells. And they didn't either have the money to get a physician. So he kept his mother in bed, took care of her and his siblings and worked hard so that his family could survive.

His mother sat up against some cushions and accepted the plate he was offering her. Her smile seemed as tired as her blue eyes. “Merlin, my boy,” she began. She was the only one in the house that called him that. “You were very brave, but you shouldn't have done it. You should have let me confront those men. It was dangerous... If the king had discovered...”

“It's alright, mum,” Merlin interrupted. “And you know you shouldn't be out of bed. Now, eat this. You have to get your strength back.” And Merlin watched with satisfaction when his mother sighed but started to eat. “Anyway,” Merlin continued, “we're lucky that the king was in a hurry to see his son.”

Suddenly, Gwaine, Morgana and Daegal jumped in the bed with them. “I'd like to be the king's son,” Daegal commented dreamily. It was a comprehensible dream for a poor four-years-old child, but Merlin had to make him forget about it. He didn't want any of his siblings being bitter about the life they had.

“Would you like that?” he asked with feigned incredulity. “I'm sure the prince is a spoiled utter prat. All the day with servants fulfilling his every whim, with lots of food and a big castle all for himself... He must be a pompous arrogant cabbage-head that can't stop ordering everybody around and is incapable of doing anything for himself... It must be extremely boring,” Merlin finished with sarcasm. Well, at least he had tried to make it look as bad as possible.

His siblings' opinion was quite different. “It must be wonderful,” they said in unison.

Merlin and his mother tried to stifle their laughs at the children's gullibility. They knew that being a prince was far more than that. Despite all the luxuries, a prince also had a great deal of responsibilities with his family and his kingdom. Not everything was that easy. But Merlin didn't want his siblings to envy that life either. So, as he stood up and left his mother eating with Gwaine, Morgana and Daegal, he continued his speech.

“But he must be an unbearable conceited clotpole.” He walked down the two stairs to join Will and Lance who were trying to clear away the table. “Moreover,” he added, “you didn't see his father, the king, but I did.”

“And how is he?” Will asked with interest.

“Well, he's a tall handsome man...” Merlin tried to describe him, “but he's very haughty... And his eyes are so cold...”

“But he stopped the scary man that wanted to hurt you,” Lance said reasonably.

“We're his subjects. He has to protect us. It's his duty as our king.” Merlin placed the last plate in the washing-up bowl full of water where the rest of the piled up plates waited to be washed. He would do that later when he and his mother would finish their dinner. “And one day, it will be the prince's duty too.” Merlin ruffled Lance's hair and his eyes turned gold once more so that the enchanted spoon that was still running around the table jumped into the washing-up bowl too. “C'mon, boys, it's time to sleep.”

Will and Lancelot went to their beds obediently. They were older than the others and they were also more aware of their situation. Moreover, they had to be tired too since they used to help Merlin more than his other siblings who were younger. However, from the other room he heard Gwaine's whining, “I don't wanna sleep now.”

But when he climbed up the stairs the three children were comfortable curled up around their mother, who had already finished her meal. Daegal was even snoring softly, the poor child, and Morgana's eyelids were almost closed, heavy with sleepiness. Gwaine was the only one that was trying to keep himself awake. Merlin chuckled amusedly and lifted him easily. Gwaine protested again, but he finally conceded and in no time he had all of his siblings and his mother safely sleeping in their respective beds.

Merlin looked at all of them sadly as he sat at the small wood table to eat the rest of the cold stew. He wished he was able to give them a better life but it would be dangerous for them to live elsewhere where people could find out more easily about his magic and Morgana's dreams. Anyway, there was no point in thinking like that. He had work to do. He wanted to wash the plates and tidy up a bit before going to sleep. The next morning he had to wake up soon. He needed to cut more wood if he wanted his family to make it through the winter. When the snow arrived, it would be harder to collect wood.

He stood after finishing his plate and took it to the washing-up bowl along with the pot. It was time to wash everything up. Since he was quite tired, he enchanted a rag to wash the pot, which was the hardest, while he did the rest by hand in order to finish soon. As his hands submerged in the dirty soapy water and he started to scrub the first plate his thoughts wandered back to the prince. In a way, he really felt sorry him. Merlin had known his father. Balinor had been a kind man. He had taught Merlin about magic and about caring for his family, but the king... There was something in that man that made him shiver. He doubted the prince would have the same love he and his siblings had had from his father.

And in that moment, while he was on his knees washing plates, he pitied the king and his son. Merlin had heard many things about king Uther, but now that he had witnessed his arrogance and authority, he could see clearly that the man hated magic so much because it was power. A power he craved but that he couldn't understand or possess. And that made him a cruel bitter man that vented his insecurities on the world. Merlin knew that magic could be a gift, a true treasure. His father had shown him that. He feared what king Uther might teach his own son.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

As the sun started to set, Ygraine found herself waiting for the king's arrival along with her trusted friend Gaius and most of the councillors, knights, guards and servants that lived in Camelot's castle. All of them were surrounding the main square around which the impressive castle was build. The most important figures were situated in the staircase just behind her. She was the only one that remained in the centre of it all to welcome back her dear husband, as any good queen should do.

His son, prince Arthur should be by her side. When she and Gaius had gone to communicate him his father's return he had seemed nervous. Ygraine could understand it was completely normal. Arthur had practically grown up without knowing Uther. He just knew the little that Gaius or she told him and she supposed he must have heard some rumours too. Nervousness was something she expected. However, what really worried her was the fact that he was writing a poem for him. And he even wanted to give it to Uther publicly in the banquet they had prepared for that night.

The queen knew Uther wasn't either going to tolerate it or even understand it. Arthur's way of expressing himself was with written words, but Uther's one was through weapons, wars and hatred. Poetry had no place in his heart and when he discovered Arthur's love for it, he would do the impossible so that it would be the same for his son. She remembered quite well how much he had wanted a heir, a son. A boy he could educate to be a fearsome warrior and could go on with his conquests and his exterminating magic politics.

That's why she had always feared the day Uther would come back and would take his child away from her. She had never wanted her son to be like her husband, so she had hired tutors to teach him letters and science as well as knights had taught him to defend himself with a weapon. However, it had been Arthur's choice to prefer words to swords. And now that Uther was almost upon them Ygraine was immensely worried. Perhaps, she should have prepared her son better, made him tougher, because she knew this day would come. Now there was nothing more she could do. She had let her son be himself and when the king arrived, the only thing left for her to do was to try to protect him from his own father with the best of her abilities.

Nevertheless, that was already proving to be difficult. She could hear the knights approaching and her son wasn't there yet. She had sent a servant to look for him when the prince hadn't shown to receive his father like everyone else but now Uther was almost there and there was no trace of Arthur or the servant. Uther wasn't going to be pleased with that. She was sure the king would be anxious to see his little warrior son. It was bad enough that Arthur didn't want to wear chainmail, but that he wasn't even there to see his father back was going to anger him.

A small group of riders entering the square interrupted her thoughts. It seemed they had left the rest of the army behind and had come home ahead to accompany his king. Uther was among the riders, just in the middle. He was wearing a red cloak with the Pendragon's crest and chainmail like the rest of his knights. The only difference was the golden crown on his head. Ygraine watched him approach her and noticed how older he looked now. His hair was greyer and he had more wrinkles. His eyes and demeanour, however, remained as cold as ever.

He dismounted and walked to her calmly. He was noticing the changes in her too. She wasn't a young girl any more, but she had always been younger than him and time had treated her well. It wasn't her place to say it but people still praised her beauty. The king must have thought the same because he sent her a little smile and took her hand gallantly to give it a quick kiss as a symbol of his love.

“Welcome back, my lord.” Ygraine bowed to her husband and started to play the role of the loving awaiting wife as it was her duty. “I've been worried for your welfare.”

“My queen,” Uther replied pleasantly, “I see you're as beautiful as ever.”

He nodded curtly to her before turning his razor eyes to the rest of the people congregated in the square. He studied them a few moments and then he proclaimed with a loud authoritative tone, “My knights, my councillors and good people of Camelot, I bring you a great victory today. More lands, riches, allies and most importantly, the eradication of more evil magic users. As a king, I bring you peace and tonight we will celebrate it together.”

Everyone in the square cheered at the king's declaration. Some people followed Uther's believes about the evilness of magic. Others remembered too well what it could mean not agreeing with his majesty. In any case, the people of Camelot knew better than upsetting their ruler his first day back after a long war.

With the excited voices still echoing in the square, Uther turned his attention back to his queen and asked her harshly, “I suppose you've organised everything, haven't you?”

“Of course, my lord,” Ygraine answered sweetly. She had also experienced herself how far Uther might go when something displeased him. “We knew you were coming back and...”

“I hope you haven't let the servants get used to obeying just you,” Uther interrupted her rudely and made his way towards the staircase where the councillors and knights were waiting their king. Of course, his obedient wife followed him. “Now that I'm back, it's my place to rule, don't forget that.”

“I know, my lord,” the queen tried to appease him. “Your people are glad you're back. They prayed for your safe return.”

“I hope so. After all, I'm their king. I have the power to kill them or let them live. They should be glad I'm such a generous king.”

“They are, sire.” Ygraine had heard that same arrogant and cruel discourse before from him. She understood then that he hadn't changed at all in all those years away. In fact, the war seemed to have made him more heartless.

The whole time Uther had been looking at the councillors and knights as if searching for someone but when they reached the steps it was far too obvious that that someone wasn't there. “Where is my son?”

Ygraine had been waiting that question and yet she wasn't ready to answer it. So she tried to change the topic. “You must be exhausted, sire. I made the servants prepare you a hot bath, then you will be able to change to something more comfortable before the banquet. I've even arranged for a comedian's group to perform tonight.” As she climbed the first steps to the big wooden doors she hoped his husband would believe her excuse and follow her inside.

She wasn't that lucky. Uther was still at the foot of the stairs, his face contorted in a fiery frown. “I've asked you where my son is. Where is my little warrior? He should be here to receive his father from war.”

Ygraine, however, didn't budge and tried to cover up for his son once more. “But you should rest before you see him.”

“I'll rest later,” a very annoyed Uther replied. “I've dedicated my victory to him and my men want to see his future commander.” Ygraine looked back at all the ruthless men that had brought his husband back home safely. They had dismounted too and were not far away from them with interested looks on their faces, grunting their approval. As her eyes scanned the knights, they fell upon a tall ugly man. She remembered him specially – Valiant, Uther's second in command. And she hoped with all her heart that Arthur would never be anything like him.

“Come with me, sire,” she conceded. Uther might have a right to see her beloved son, but those brute men certainly didn't. If Uther had to see Arthur for the first time in years and realise he wasn't the warrior he expected him to be, then it would be better it happened in private. “I think he's in his chambers. He must be getting ready for the banquet.”

“Then take me to my son, I want to see him.”

Ygraine nodded and guided Uther inside his castle. As they passed, the councillors and knights positioned in the staircase parted and bowed to their monarchs. Uther only acknowledged some of his most trusted advisers, among them his old friend Gaius, whom he clapped in the back before following his wife through the castle corridors to Arthur's chambers.

Once there she knocked and entered. She hoped against hope that Arthur had finished his poem and was getting dressed or doing something else. It was useless. They found him writing, but this time he wasn't in the windowsill. The prince was sat at his desk, his sleeves up, his face concentrated and the pen still in his hand. He didn't even seem to notice there was little light left.

“Arthur, son,” she said as she walked towards him, Uther stepping in behind her. “Your father has arrived. He wants to see you.”

Arthur looked up surprised, as if he didn't know it was time. He stood quickly and bowed to Uther. “Father,” he muttered unconfidently as the king subjected him to a thoroughly examination. He surely noticed Arthur's golden locks, his kind light blue eyes and his somehow shy but still proud smile.

“You're my son...” Uther said. He seemed to be in a trance as if all of his dreams had suddenly become true. And in part it was like that, all those years wishing for a son, then being apart from him for so long and there he was. Arthur, his boy.

“I'm... I'm sorry I wasn't in the square to welcome you, father,” Arthur mumbled. “But I was working on this.” He picked up the parchment he had been working on all afternoon and approached them. “It's a present for you.” He hold it out to Uther with a sincere smile full of expectancy. Ygraine, however, dreaded the moment Uther would broke all her child's dreams.

“What's this?” Uther asked really surprised. He looked at the words as if it was the first time he had seen something like that.

“It's a poem, father,” Arthur began more excited as he gained some of his confidence back after the first shock of seeing his father again. “I wrote it for you, to commemorate your great victory. I wanted to give it to you tonight in the banquet... And perhaps... I could read it aloud to let the people know about your...”

“You want what?” the king shouted. And Ygraine knew that was it. Uther had realised his son wasn't a warrior at all and that made him impossibly angry. The worst was that it was his son who was going to pay for it. She just prayed that it wasn't as bad as she expected it to be.

“I wanted to...” Arthur was saying meekly. He had noticed too that Uther wasn't all that pleased with the idea but he didn't know what to do.

“I'm a king and you're a prince, damn it! I've spent years in war to bring glory to this kingdom and my family and you, my son, want to celebrate it with a stupid poem,” he scorned. And then he tore the parchment.

“No... Father...” Arthur protested but in his eyes there was something akin fear along with disappointment and Ygraine's heart broke a little along with that parchment which ended in little shards scattered on the floor.

“You should be a warrior! Where are your muscles?” Uther asked furiously as he stepped on the pieces of parchment and took one of Arthur's slender arms. He certainly knew his way around weapons, but he didn't have the physique of a great muscly warrior. For god's sake, he was still a boy, a child. “You're nothing like a knight.” The king pushed Arthur away and directed his rage against Ygraine. “What have you done, woman? You were supposed to educate him.”

“And I did,” she tried to defend. “He studied Latin and Maths, he can write and read and compose poems...” As she said that her eyes took in the figure of her little prince who had knelt on the floor trying to recover his lost poem, the one he had written for his father.

Her eyes returned to Uther when he grunted angrily. In the twinkling of an eye, he went to the desk and throw everything there on the floor – parchments, books, pens, inkwells, everything.

“Poems?” he was saying in a rage. “That's rubbish. From now on, I will be the one taking care of his education. And he will be a man, a warrior!” And with that he left with cross steps.

When the door closed behind him, Ygraine knelt beside his son. “I'm sorry, love,” she said as she caressed his soft blonde hair. “I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before.”

“It's alright, mum,” Arthur answered with a sad expression in his young face. “You just wanted to protect me from the truth. I don't blame you. But now that I'm older I must face it.” And the prince took his mother's hand in his to reassure her. “If he wants me to be a warrior, then I will train more. But that doesn't change how much I like writing. I'll always be the same. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Hunith woke up suddenly alone in her bed. She had heard something similar to thunder and her first thought was for her children. She always worried for them. They were everything she had and she loved them with the passion any mother would, more if we took into account they didn't have their father to care for them any more, although they had Merlin, her older son, who made all in his hand to look after the rest of the family. But for Hunith, he was still her little magical boy and it saddened her that he felt responsible for her and his siblings.

She looked around and saw her children sleeping peacefully. And Merlin... “Merlin! Where are you?” she whispered as loud as she dared not to wake up the other children.

“He's out. He's putting the piles of wood he left outside in the granary. A storm is coming.” It was Will. She hadn't noticed it before but neither he nor Merlin were in their beds. Will was looking outside from the window, a small candle burning beside him. As a good brother, he was watching over Merlin. True to Will's words the light of some lightning came through the glass and every crack of the hut.

“I don't like him to go out at night,” Hunith stated but in her state there was little she could do to avoid it. That made her feel more impotent to protect her children and even sorrier to place such a burden upon Merlin's young shoulders.

“I've told him so, but you know how stubborn he is. He doesn't listen to anyone,” Will complained. “I'm gonna tell him to come in already.”

And Will walked to the door. Hunith, however, didn't allow it. It was bad enough that one of her boys was out there, she didn't want Will to go out too. “No, no, Will!” she almost shouted, “just open one window and tell him to come in.”

As a good boy Will went to the window nearer to the granary and opened it widely. “Brother!” he shouted against the wind. “Emrys!”

“Will!” Merlin replied from outside. “What the hell are you doing? Close that window or you're all going to get ill!” But he continued picking up wood.

“Mum says you have to come in immediately!” Will shouted again.

“I will when I finish this! Now close that window!” And he continued with the task at hand.

“Aren't you afraid?” asked Will, who hadn't closed the window yet.

“Afraid? Of what?” Merlin cried. “It's the storm that worries me.” He went to the granary to put away another pile of wood as he shouted, “Just close that window, Will!”

This time Will obeyed. And Merlin was left preparing everything for the upcoming storm. However, as he finished rearranging all the wood and sacks of provisions in the granary he heard a snap. For a moment he thought there was someone out there, but that was impossible. No one in their right mind would venture out in a weather like that. Merlin came out and watched the surroundings thoroughly but he discarded the stupid thought. It must have been Will's comment about being afraid. That and the fact that Morgana had woken up rather scared that same night, before the first signs of the storm had arrived. It had taken him some time to put her to sleep again since she kept saying she had seen an evil raven and that it was out there, but Merlin had finally managed to calm her. In fact, it had been thanks to Morgana keeping him up late that he had realised there was a storm looming over them.

With time Merlin had learnt it was better not to disregard Morgana's dreams, but he couldn't either let fear grip him each time she dreamt something, specially when her dreams didn't make sense at all and they could merely be a normal child's nightmare. So, Merlin made himself forget about it as he covered the granary's entrance with some boards and went inside as fast as he could – unaware of a pair of prying eyes fixed on him.

Inside his mother was still awake and worried. “Go to bed, Merlin. You should be cold,” Hunith said as soon as her firstborn entered.

“Don't worry, mum,” he replied as he ushered Will to his own bed. “I've prepared everything for the storm.”

And Merlin went to a small washbasin to wash his hands. He was smiling pleased with his work when Will, who was in bed, but wasn't still asleep exclaimed, “There's a man in the window!”

Merlin turned around quickly, but there was no one in there. Perhaps the lightings had made him see the shadow of a tree... or a raven? “There is no one. C'mon, Will, it's late. You must go to sleep.”

“But there was a man out there,” he said sitting up. “I've seen him.”

“Shh...” Merlin said and he had to come to Will to calm him down. He didn't want his other siblings to wake up and be afraid of the storm or of whatever that might be outside, specially Morgana.

Will was still insisting on having seen someone when they heard a knock on the door. Both of them were paralysed for a second and then Will said, “See how I was right.” But that didn't helped in the least.

Merlin went to the door but Hunith that till that moment had rested silent watching bemusedly her two older children said, “Merlin, please, don't open.”

“Perhaps it's just a branch that hit the door,” he tried to calm his mother and brother. It was extremely farfetched but it was better than facing the fact that someone or something dangerous might be out there. However, Merlin's curious nature won over his good sense and he approached the window to try to peek outside. Then they heard a male's voice, “Please, let me in... I'm just a poor traveller who has got lost and is cold and hungry.”

“Who are you?” Merlin asked unconsciously.

“Merlin!” his mother tried to call him. She was sat up on her bed, an anxious expression in her face. Merlin, on the other hand, only could think that if perhaps it was truly someone who wanted to hurt them, he had his magic to defend them. He could do some tricks, move some objects and force him out. It wasn't much but it was still something. And if it was just a traveller, it was cruel to leave him alone out there.

“I'm on my way to the king's castle, but the storm came upon me and I don't know where to take refuge” the unknown man pressed from outside. “Please, I just want a place to stay the night.”

“Don't open,” his mother ordered. “He may be dangerous.”

But Merlin's kind nature didn't let him do that. “He must be cold and hungry and a storm is coming. We can't let him out there, mum,” he defended. And before Hunith could protest again he opened the door.

“Come inside, quickly,” Merlin said. A tall man covered in a black cloak with a hood and a walking stick entered. He seemed quite old despite the fact that his short beard and what little hair could be seen under the hood were still darker than Merlin's, whereas his light blue eyes were tired but grateful. Perhaps it was this man in black who Morgana had mistaken for a raven. In any case, Merlin decided it would be better if he was careful with him.

“Please,” Merlin asked, “don't speak too loud. My little siblings are sleeping.” And they were. Just Will's and his mother's eyes were on them.

“I'm sorry to disturb you,” the man apologized kindly to them. “Perhaps you were sleeping...”

“No. My mother is ill,” he informed their guest, “and I was still up doing some chores.”

“I don't ask for much,” the man said as he approached the embers left on the fireplace, “just a roof to shelter me from the storm, a floor to rest a bit and if you had something to eat... I would be most grateful.”

Hunith was still looking at the man with distrust. Moreover, she was in no condition to serve anyone. “I will take care of him, mum,” Merlin said to her before joining the man. “I will prepare you something and you can rest here.” He pointed a pile of straw near the fireplace which was comfortable enough to sleep.

“Thank you, dear boy. It's more than I hoped for,” the old man answered kindly. “And what's your name? Who am I indebted to?”

Merlin went to the cupboard where they kept some food to retrieve something for the stranger to eat. “Everybody calls me Emrys,” he said. For some reason he thought it would be better if the man didn't know his real name. “And you?”

“Well,” the old man chuckled, “it's been a long time since anybody has addressed me. I live in isolation... but my name... my name is Cornelius.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

The great hall of Camelot's castle was full of people. The king sat on a higher table on a dais with his wife, his son and some of his most trusted commanders and advisers, presiding over the rest of the long tables where more nobles and knights sat to celebrate the return of their beloved king, victorious in his crusade against magic.

Food and drinks were brought in constantly by obedient servants that fulfilled the every need of the nobles present at the big feast. From roast pork to mead, everything was delicious as it should be in such a great celebration. The banquet had been going on for a while now and most people were already more than elated thanks to the euphoria of the moment and all the alcoholic drinks that had been served.

However, among the crowd of boisterous happy people there were worried faces too. The queen and prince of Camelot sat at each side of the king, hardly eating anything. In the lower tables, the old physician Gaius also sent them preoccupied glances. It would be obvious for anyone who took the time to look twice at them that neither wanted to be there. After the disastrous reunion, father and son hadn't said anything to each other and the queen didn't know what to do any more.

As the night dragged on the queen finally thought it was time for the show to start. Perhaps then she and her son would be able to retire to their chambers and spent a quiet night. Ygraine wanted time to think about her next movement to protect her son and for that she needed Uther to cool off a bit. There would be no point in trying to show him the advantages of being a literate person if he were too obsessed with the idea of his son being a little warrior. That's why, foreseeing Uther's temper, the queen had arranged beforehand for this show by a well-know group of comics and acrobats.

As they entered the great hall already doing tricks and juggling, all the people clapped and roared in delight at what they expected would be a spectacle worthy of a king. Among the performers where musicians, comedians, bards, a beautiful brown-skinned dancer in a purple provocative dress, a dwarf who did tricks and somersaults, a strong tall man who was able to lift his friend, who was a rather fat young man, and a shirtless black man who played with fire. As all of them walked around the different tables and impressed everyone with their antics or their skills, the king looked over them from his privileged position clapping and laughing merrily as if this were the best day of his life. He even sent an approving glance to his wife and she couldn't help but think that everything was going to be all right.

Her happiness, nevertheless, didn't last long. The pretty dancer approached the high table moving her hips sensually, which made the king roar louder and his son avert his gaze shyly. And with her the dwarf came too jumping around and humming happily. He noticed the prince's flushed face at the sight of such a beautiful woman and decided to play a little trick to amuse their majesties.

With encouraging words the little man promised the young prince to help him to court such a charming woman. The king found it extremely funny and seemed to be enjoying himself until the dwarf said that in order to conquer a lady you had to give them something beautiful. The inexperienced prince took what he had more at hand – an expensive ornate dagger he wore in his belt – and offered it to the smiling girl. The dwarf wasn't convinced of such a gift and with a fluid movement of his hand over the dagger, he transformed it instantly into a beautiful white flower.

The poor man didn't have time to tell the prince to offer it to the awaiting girl. The king immediately stood up and shouted, “What the hell have you done, you little monster!?” At that all the people in the room turned towards the high table with questioning looks. Even the music stopped as all eyes were fixed on the angry king, the surprised prince and the frightened dwarf.

“My lord?” was the only thing the paralysed man could say before the king took him by the front of his tunic and lifted him several inches.

The king ignored the murmurs of the crowd, the terrified glances of the other performers and even the pleading calls of his son and wife. “Was that magic, you little scum? How dare you? Magic is forbidden in my kingdom!” As in every time were magic was somehow involved or simply mentioned, the king seemed to have lost all perspective and got incredibly furious. He would have gone as far as hitting the poor dwarf if his son, Arthur, hadn't intervened.

“Father, please!” But it was Arthur's hand pulling his father arm that brought the king back from his frenzy and made him release his grip on the dwarf, who fell into the ground in a heap. “Please,” the prince repeated. “It wasn't magic! It was just a stupid trick! He changed my dagger for this flower...” And the prince showed the flower to his father to prove there was nothing strange in it as the dwarf, a bit more recovered, showed him the dagger he had just swapped. “He was just really quick!”

Uther looked at his son dubiously as he tried to regain his senses, finally aware of the whole court looking at them. The true was that the mere suspicion of magic always put him like that. But he couldn't forget what happened all those years ago, how a lowly sorcerer had betrayed his father, how he had killed him and had almost destroyed the Pendragon family and gained a kingdom with just a flick of his hand. He had been very young at the time but he had learned the lesson. Magic was dangerous and his only way of dealing with it was trying to exterminate it before some damn sorcerer did the same to him. No one would snatch Camelot from him.

“Is this true?” he finally asked his son more calmly, but the venom still present in his tone.

“It wasn't magic, father,” the boy nodded seriously and even with a bit of authority in his voice.

“Very well,” the king conceded reluctantly as he took the white flower from his son and crushed it in his fist. “But if I ever found out you have protected a real sorcerer...” he said in his son's ear and the prince had to gulp at the rage contained in that threat. And he didn't doubt his father for a moment. His hate for magic blinded him so much he would be able to kill anyone in order to eradicate magic in his realm.

The king gave the dwarf and the dancer helping him up a last disdainful look before addressing his guests. “We can't forget magic users are monsters. And I don't want them in my kingdom. Neither magic users nor stupid performers who would play tricks too similar to magic as if that were nothing.” He sent all the performers a hateful glance before announcing. “I gave you three days to leave my kingdom. If I ever find you within my lands again, you'll be executed.” He searched for his second in command and ordered him, “Valiant! Take a few men and escort them out of the castle!”

The brute knight obeyed at once and with the help of a few more guards all of the performers, musicians and comedians left the great hall under the watchful eyes of their king. When the last one had left, the king directed his attention back to his guests and ordered everyone to continue with the feast before leaning down towards his wife and whispering in her ear, “And you, sweet Ygraine, I hope you won't be so lenient in such matters again in the future.”

Without another word the king took his son's arm and left the great hall too using a side door, dragging his son with him. As soon as they reached a deserted corridor away from prying eyes the king exploded. “I don't want my son and heir to ever speak to me like that again!”

“But father...” the prince tried to defend himself. “The man wasn't doing anything wrong.”

“How dare you question your father and king in front of everyone!” A new sparkle of anger was visible again in the king's cold grey gaze. “From now on you will do what I tell you to do, you will say what I tell you to say and you will think what I tell you to think. Is that understood?” The prince simply looked at the king in astonishment, his eyes going from his enraged father to his sad mother, who had appeared at the end of the corridor and was contemplating the scene sorrowfully.

“Like that nonsense of writing...” the king continued crying. “You're my son! Have you heard me?! You're a prince of Camelot! You have to be a warrior! Your time to be spoiled by your mother is over. From now on things are going to change. I'm going to make you change.” Uther towered over him menacingly. “From tomorrow I'm going to make you a real man, a warrior worthy of being my son. I want to see you at sunrise in the training field.” And with that he left.

Ygraine walked towards her beloved son slowly and embraced him tightly in a protective hug. She could just whisper, “It's going to be all right, my boy.”

 

* * *

 

Everything was quiet in the small hut. It was the middle of the night and all its inhabitants were peacefully sleeping. The calm was only broken by some claps of thunder and the sound of the wind that echoed outside the wooden dwelling. It would be thanks to the light that got through the windows every time the storm released a bolt of lightning that if a member of the family were awake, they would have noticed their guest wasn't asleep either.

Cornelius, as the old man had said his name was, had his eyes wide open, his light blue gaze glued to a candle near the pile of straw where he was supposed to be sleeping. A new bolt of lightning illuminated the room and then, when it was dark again, the dim light of that same candle was barely visible. The old man had ignited it with just a thought as his eyes had gone completely black for a second or, more precisely, he had lit it with his magic.

Without no one noticing it, the old man got up and with the candle in his hand he walked to the beds where mother and children rested. He looked briefly at the woman and then at some of her smaller children. The young girl was clearly an interesting one – his magic told him that much. However, in that small hut there was a higher prize. The prize he had come for. The oldest boy, Emrys.

Cornelius couldn't help but approach the young warlock to get a better look of his serene pretty face. It was even better than he may have expected. Not only he had found the mythical Emrys of the old prophecies, but he was far stronger, more compassionate, sweet and beautiful than he had ever imagined. And the best part was that he was so full of energy, of magic... The magic he needed to keep himself alive and evade death once more. The magic he wanted to be young again.

He even went as far as bending down to look closer at that incredible creature he hoped to possess soon. And so he whispered, “You'll be mine, Emrys.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Mid morning found an extremely tired prince Arthur trying to do his best in the training grounds. That same morning, his manservant, Morris, had woken him up before the first lights had the opportunity to reach Camelot's beautiful castle. He had brought him breakfast and helped him dress in comfortable clothes. Arthur had left his chambers shortly later without saying much. With a grim expression, he had gone directly to the armoury where several men and youngsters had been preparing themselves to train too. However, it had been his father who had received him with a stern look, holding a sword out to him.

Some hours later, Arthur was covered in sweat and beaten up by his father's knights. Arthur could stand his ground in a normal training session. He had done that before. After all, he had been taught how to hold a sword and how to use it since he was a child, but this was nothing like that. This wasn't a training session at all. This was a true fight. An open battle. And it seemed Arthur was everyone's opponent since so far he had had small skirmishes with almost every knight present there, while the other knights-to-be and squires practised in a more relaxed way in the other end of the training grounds. And the worst, he had lost every single fight.

The fact that the king had been watching him all the time hadn't helped either. One would think that, being the king and specially after being away for such a long time, he had better things to do. And yet Uther had remained there all morning, his calculating gaze fixed on his son, making him lose concentration, his movements becoming more imprecise and desperate. Soon it was clear that what little Arthur knew about swords and fighting was no help and he was no real match for any of Camelot's knights. His father's angered face told him he had found out that much. However, he continued there, observing him struggle against each new opponent with all he had and failing every time.

At the moment, he was losing spectacularly against Valiant, his father's most trusted knight. It was no surprise. After all, Valiant was the best warrior, the toughest and most ruthless. To make it worse, Arthur was exhausted, his body ached all over from the exercise (even in places he didn't know they could ache) and he had fallen several times and received several cuts. He tried to bear it a little bit more but he couldn't. With a mighty thrust, Valiant made his sword fly away from his hand. Defenceless, Arthur moved back until he suddenly tripped over something and fell backwards, completely at his opponent's mercy.

As the prince fought to regain his senses and control his erratic breathing, he noticed his father had come over from the sidelines, where he had stayed all the time, and he was now towering above him. It seemed he had finally lost his temper, if his angry shouts were anything to go by. “C'mon, get up!” he ordered. “You have to move more quickly. You've to anticipate your opponent's movements to block them. You need to train more! C'mon!”

But Arthur couldn't do it any more. His tiredness had finally caught up with him and he was unable to stand up. “I said get up! Now!” the king demanded. He looked at his son disdainfully when he added, “Even the squires can do it better!” And that finally made Arthur act. After all that had happened, yet he felt terribly empty and sorry every time his father showed so openly that he was such a disappointment to him.

As Arthur tried with all his might to get up, Uther unsheathed his sword. Apparently he was willing to teach his son personally. Arthur just shuddered at the thought that his father would be even more inconsiderate than the rest of the knights. He was about to pick up his fallen sword to face him (and presumably end on the ground again after the first attack) when he heard his mother's voice.

“You aren't going to achieve anything with this,” she reproached her husband as she walked towards them with a worried look, her eyes pleading for her son's well-being.

“He's my son. I will do with him whatever I want,” Uther replied defiantly.

“He's my son too,” the queen answered with as much confidence as she could muster. “And I don't want him to be like you.” There, she had finally said it out loud. However, that just earned her an ironic laugh from her husband.

“So... you don't want your precious little boy to be like me,” the king repeated sarcastically. “And tell me, since when does it matter what you want?” Ygraine was rendered speechless. It had been a long time without facing Uther. She had forgotten how hurtful he could be. “I think you have forgotten what you are.” He got menacingly closer to her, knowing his son and all the knights and people around were watching them. “You're merely the plunder of a past war. Or don't you remember you just married me because I conquered your father's kingdom?”

Ygraine shivered at that. Of course she remembered that faithful day when his father had begged her to marry that ruthless man in order to save what little remained of their shattered kingdom. And she did it out of duty, for her father, for her people and even because being a stupid young girl she found Uther handsome and exciting. The man won over her naïve heart with beautiful words but soon she discovered how Uther Pendragon truly was. Despite the times when he had been good to her, she had also learnt he could be really merciless. However, she wasn't going to lose her nerve and let him took over her son to terrorize him. She couldn't and so she made to reply.

She didn't have time to say anything. One moment she was opening her mouth to protest, the next she was on the ground. Uther had shouted, “I ordered you to shut up,” and had slapped her so hard that she had lost her balance and had fallen disoriented. Everything got even more confused when Arthur reacted.

“Don't touch my mother,” he shouted back at his father as he threw himself upon the king, unarmed and furious. They struggled for a few moments but it didn't last long. Arthur had been right, he was no match for the king and he too ended on the ground near his mother, who tried to prevent him from confronting his father again.

Uther, however, didn't keep still. Sword in hand he went over to Valiant, who was watching everything with an amused grin, and he took his weapon. He threw it at his son's feet and said, “C'mon boy. Take it and defend yourself.” Arthur looked at the sword dubiously. He knew perfectly well he couldn't win against his father and yet...

“No,” his mother said beside him. “Please, Arthur don't take it.”

“C'mon, boy,” his father incited him. “You hate me, don't you? Well, that's alright as long as it makes your anger come out. C'mon, behave like a man and fight. Attack me!”

Arthur fell in his father's trap and he took the sword quickly as he stood up. “That's what you want, father!” he spat angrily before taking all his frustration out on his father, thrusting his sword at him time and time again, enraged about what that man had done to his sweet mother.

For his part, Uther blocked every blow easily as he praised, “That's it. I want to see the fury in your eyes.”

And then Arthur stopped. “I don't want this. If you think being a man means I have to be as full of anger and hatred as you, I would rather not be your son at all.” With that he sent his father a last angered look before dropping the sword at his feet and running back to the castle.

 

* * *

 

“What did you say you want to buy?” an astonished Hunith asked.

She was in the small hut, ill and laid up in bed. Thankfully, her children weren't there with her. Merlin had left very soon in the morning to cut down some more trees and a little later, after having swallowed up the breakfast Merlin had prepared beforehand, she had sent the rest out. She knew Merlin didn't like her to be by herself at home, but she didn't want her children to be shut up in that hut just because she didn't feel well. She wanted them to play and explore and grow up. And that included going out for themselves and learning that they had to help their older brother when possible. That left Hunith to face their unwanted visitor from the previous night by her own.

“I didn't say a what, but a who,” answered the same old man who just some hours ago was begging for shelter. He had disappeared mysteriously in the darkness of the night to reappear again now, when Hunith was alone and defenceless. However, he was different. Now he didn't look so old and in the daylight his hair seemed darker and his eyes icier. He still wore black clothes, but they weren't the same travelling clothes. He was wearing a strange long black robe with raven black feathers in sleeves and collar. “I want to buy your elder son,” he said impassively as if it were the most common thing in the world.

“My son isn't for sale,” Hunith cried as she sat up and shook her head indignantly, clearly not believing such an atrocity to be possible. Then she plumped on the cushions and took her hand to her weary heart. Even that little movement had been to much of an effort for her.

“Alright,” the old man conceded. “Then I will raise the price.” He produced several golden coins from his pocket and threw them at the bed's feet. “With all this money you'll have enough to go to a big city, buy a big beautiful house and live comfortably with your children for the rest of your life.” Hunith looked at him appalled. How could that man be saying that to a mother? And the worst was when he added, “What is it a child more or less? You have many...”

She couldn't bear it any more. How dared that man say that about her precious son. Her outrage gave her more strength and she sat up again to warn off the man, “Pick up that dirty money from the floor of my respectable house. My son is _not_ for sale.” In that moment, she couldn't avoid thinking how proud Balinor would be of her for defending their son.

However, that didn't make the old man budge. “I'm getting tired of asking nicely, of offering money.” He pointed the coins still on the floor scornfully. “I could have your son for less than that. I could have him for nothing.”

“Nothing!” Hunith repeated visibly shaken. “That's all you'll have. Now, get out of my home!” she shouted as she gestured towards the door. “I don't want to see you again. Get out!” she practically sobbed.

The old man looked at her without showing any remorse before stating, “Such a pity.” He made for the door, the woman's sobs ringing in his ears, but then he suddenly turned around, a creepy smirk gracing his face. “You have asked for it, stubborn woman. I was willing to pay. Now I'll have him anyway. After all, I'm Cornelius Sigan, and I get what I want.” And the old man disappeared in a gust of wind.

Hunith was left alone once more. She collapsed onto the bed extremely exhausted. Cornelius Sigan, the dark sorcerer. How could she have been so stupid as not to recognise him before? He was a wizard of legend, a figure of nightmare. There were tales about how he always wore black clothes, how he could control ravens or how he was so powerful that he could turn day into night. It was said he had even defeated death and conquered mortality. Her sobs intensified. What was she going to do? If his dear Balinor were there... But she wasn't sure not even him would be able to stop a man like Sigan. And now... Now that powerful sorcerer wanted his poor little boy. But whatever might happen, Hunith wasn't going to allow that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some violence towards the end (some flogging). You've been warned in case you don't like that.

Merlin had woken up really early that morning – the day had barely broken. He had gone about his routine as usual. He had washed himself a little and then he had prepared a porridge for his mother and his siblings to eat. Oh, and for the previous night visitor. The poor man must have been hungry too. It had been then when his eyes had searched for the pile of straw where he was supposed to be sleeping, hoping he hadn't woken him... But the old man hadn't been there. Being the caring boy he was, Merlin had left his current occupation to look for him, but he had found no trace.

Extremely worried, Merlin had had to finish preparing breakfast before eating something and leaving for the forest. Of course, his mother had woken up (she always did, however Merlin tried not to disturb her) to warn him to be careful and tell him that his siblings would soon join him to help him (not that he liked leaving her alone). With a goodbye kiss to his mother's forehead, Merlin had collected an axe, some water and food and a small cart and had left – not without telling her about their visitor's mysterious disappearance. He had even gone as far as losing some hours looking for the old man, but he had found nothing and his family still needed the wood to survive the winter.

After desisting in his unsuccessful search, Merlin devoted what was left of his morning to cut down trees. He wanted to make good use of his time before his siblings arrived. He knew they wanted to help (specially Will and Lance) and they were quite a help, but sometimes they also distracted him too much (specially Gwaine) and he would rather they could be at home playing and looking after her mother. However, sooner than he thought, he heard their shrill voices resonating through the forest. At the beginning, it seemed they were just joking and laughing but they must have heard the sound of his axe against wood because they started to call for him.

Merlin left the axe aside after the first two cries for 'Emrys' and shouted back at them so that they could find him among all those trees and vegetation. In no time, all his siblings were there running happily towards him and Merlin couldn't help but smile back at them. The sound of metal against wood could be heard very soon when Merlin resumed his work with his siblings either arranging the pieces of wood in the cart or playing around while looking for small broken branches.

Every now and then Merlin had to stop his cutting motion to gain his breath back a bit and check that his siblings were all right, although their merry laughs told him that much. He really admired their carefree nature and wanted them to treasure it as much as possible. He knew perfectly well that life could be very hard and he wished for his siblings to be like that at least while they were still small children. He knew there would be time for them to worry when they grew up but with their big brother there, they would be fine.

It was in one of those moments when he decided to rest a bit and have a sip from his water pouch as he watched his siblings that he noticed it. Morgana wasn't running around or laughing along with the others. She was looking for twigs on her own, away from the group. It was really strange since Morgana liked playing and joking as much as any of her brothers, but now as she wandered around them, she seemed rather sad.

Merlin left the pouch on the cart where Will and Lance were tying the wood in packs and made to approach Morgana. Will saw his intentions and commented, “She's had another dream.” Merlin knew perfectly well what kind of dreams he was referring to. She had already had one the previous night, before the storm had arrived. The fact that she had had another in the same night was rather worrying. It had never happened before. It could only mean something must be wrong.

“Has she told you?” Merlin asked. He wanted to have as much information as possible when he talked to her. No doubt she must be scared. Will, however, shook his head. Lance imitated him. It was clear in his worried face that the younger boy didn't know anything about the matter.

“She hadn't said anything to anyone. She had barely spoken in all the morning.” Lance nodded his head confirming Will's words. “You know you're the only one who understands her when it comes to her dreams.” Merlin frowned. If she hadn't said anything then... “I saw how she woke up rather alarmed,” Will continued as if he had sensed Merlin's thoughts. Will could be very perceptive sometimes. “She seemed very frightened but I didn't know what to do and she didn't say anything anyway. I think it's better if you talk to her.”

With a sigh, Merlin asked Will and Lance to take care of the little ones while he spoke to Morgana. Then he walked away towards his little sister. It was a good thing they were far from the others. Merlin wasn't sure if he wanted his brothers to hear this. It was probable that what Morgana had to say about her dreams was worrying and there was no need to alarm his brothers. It was bad enough that poor Morgana had to experience such a thing.

He picked up a twig and offered it to a distracted Morgana with a soft 'Here' to catch her attention. Morgana took it unconsciously but when she raised her eyes to him, she realised why he was there. Merlin's worried face was an open book.

“It's nothing,” she tried to deny and turned around to look for more branches.

“It clearly isn't nothing, Morgs,” Merlin countered affectionately. He knew how stubborn his little sister could be. It would be better if he convinced her to talk to him quickly, before she could get the stupid idea of playing the heroine and holding back all of her fears in order not to worry them.

“You know, I think your dreams are important,” Merlin stated as he put a hand on her shoulder in a comforting way. “I don't know what they mean yet. But you don't have to suffer them alone. I'm here with you and I have to know if I am to help you.”

Morgana had kept still since she had felt her brother's protective touch. His soft voice relaxed her and almost made her forget those horrible nightmares. She debated for a few moments, her fear gaining over her wish of not worrying him. “It was the same dream again,” she muttered. Then she turned around and faced Merlin's preoccupied look. “But this time it was different. There was something more.”

Merlin knelt down in front of her and put both his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed them gently and said, “I won't let anything bad happen. That raven you dream about... I will protect you...” But Morgana's blue eyes were still so full of fear. “With my magic, if necessary,” he added in a whisper.

Morgana shook her head. “It wasn't a raven.” Merlin frowned. She had said it was the same dream, hadn't she? “In my dream, the raven turned into a man wearing black. Even his hair and his eyes were so black... And there were more ravens around him... It was as if he controlled them...”

Merlin was more than worried now. She spoke of a man wearing black, the same as the visitor they had had last night. But Morgana didn't know about him. She had been asleep when he had arrived and he had already left when she had woken up. Moreover, he was just an old man... and yet he had disappeared so suddenly. Then Morgana said something that made his blood freeze.

“He took us away from mum... She... She tried to protect us but...” Morgana finished with an anguished sob, “but I think she couldn't.”

 

* * *

 

Prince Arthur of Camelot had shut himself in his chambers after the disastrous training session of that same morning. He had refused to eat the lunch a servant had brought him and he hadn't even allowed Gaius or his mother to come in. He knew what they wanted. To comfort him. To reassure him everything was going to be all right. To try to cover up for his father's shameful deeds and convince him he was a good king. He had heard speeches like that from them before. However, then he hadn't known what he knew now. Now, that his father had come back and in just a day had destroyed his image of the ideal father and king he thought he was, the image Ygraine and Gaius had helped him build.

But Uther's behaviour from the previous day and that morning baffled him. It hurt him the way he had hit his mother, the way he had addressed her as if she were nothing. And it wasn't just that. That poor dwarf from the previous night could have easily ended in the gallows only because of a stupid trick. And then there was the fact that he praised brutes like Valiant for their abilities as a warrior and disregarded him because he liked writing, or the fact that he wanted Arthur to be one of them. It was because of that that he was even more lost. Anger had been a rational reaction to what his father was, but that morning Uther had complimented him because he had seen hatred and fury in him. And Arthur didn't want that. He didn't want to become anything like his father.

As Arthur went through several of his works and poems he had saved from his father's rage, he thought once more about his mother. He understood more and more why she had concealed from him his father's true nature. He was very grateful for growing up without that threat over him and yet he wished she had prepared him better for finally meeting the king. Somehow, he was also angry with her but.... No, he couldn't, his mother was such a nice woman. With a sigh he could only wish for things to be different because everything was so unfair.

Then, his musings were interrupted by a loud knock. His fright had hardly lessened when he heard a voice from outside and his heart started beating faster. Valiant's rough shouts relayed that his father wanted him in the dungeons in ten minutes. He didn't have time to calm himself. Arthur quickly hid all the papers in one of the drawers and went out of his room. He didn't dare to disobey his father twice in a day. He feared what he might do, not only to him, but to his mother.

Valiant led him through Camelot's corridors as they came down to the dungeons. Arthur couldn't imagine what the hell they were going to do there but he hoped against hope that he wasn't going to be punished for that morning's outburst (although he would rather it was him than his mother). That possibility became more likely when once under the castle, they left several guards and cells behind and went deeper. Valiant suddenly stopped in front of a closed door and smirked at him creepily before opening it and gesturing for him to enter.

Arthur tried to control his nerves and reminded himself he was a prince. And with that he stepped into the small humid room where his father awaited him with a stern look. However, it wasn't his father's expression what frightened him but what he found in that room. It was full of several machines and tables with different artefacts and knives and swords and whips and mallets and more things that he was quite happy not knowing what they were for. It was clearly a kind of torture room. This time Arthur prayed he wasn't the one in whom they were going to try those tools.

“I take your mother hasn't showed you this room, since she has obviated so many aspects of your education,” Uther said severely. He didn't seem angry for that morning's events but there was a certain coldness in his eyes.

Arthur shook his head. “What's this, father?” he couldn't avoid asking in a small voice.

“This, my son, is what you have to know.” Uther nodded to Valiant, who was still in the threshold, and he left them alone. “As much as you don't want it, you are _my_ son. You're a prince and one day you'll be the king.” Uther approached him until they were face to face. “And you're not ready to be a king. Your mother hasn't prepared you.” Uther hands squeezed his son's shoulders and fixed him in his hard stare. “A king must be strong. He must show strength. His enemies must know they can't take him lightly. They must respect him and for that, they must fear him. And you can't get that with stupid poems. You need to be a hardened warrior, an imposing man.”

Arthur gulped and nodded lamely. He admitted some parts made sense, but others... He didn't think he should be feared to be respected. Nevertheless, he couldn't tell that to his father. For the moment, he could only put up with the situation. As soon as he decided to wait and see what was going to happen, Valiant returned to the room and he brought with him two guards and a man, a prisoner.

Arthur had no time to ask what was happening. No sooner had he guards entered the room and forced the prisioner to kneel than his father approached the poor battered man and said, “Very well. Now it's time to give my son another lesson. And you should be happy you're going to help me.” He turned to the prince before spatting, “This man is a lowly bandit who dared try to escape from Camelot's dungeons. He wanted to take advantage of the stir that caused my return but fortunately we manage to catch him back.”

The man made to protest and shifted around a little but the guards held him tightly by his arms and Uther and Valiant were vigilant. There was no way he could run away from his dire situation and Arthur realised apprehensively that he would have to watch over whatever punishment his father had in store for him. He didn't know if he deserved it or not. Uther had claimed he was a bandit but Arthur didn't know what to think, not after what happened last night with that dwarf. Their ways of seeing justice weren't the same.

But then the horror of his father's next words brought him back to reality. “You're going to have the honour of punishing him yourself,” the king said proudly and with that, he took one of the several whips that were scattered around the room and tended it to Arthur.

The young prince took it without thinking, as a reflex action, and looked at it with big astonished eyes. “What do you want me to do, father?”

“I want you to flog him,” Uther stated clearly.

“Me? Why?” Arthur asked dumbfounded. He had thought watching was bad enough but this... He wasn't sure he was going to be able to punish a man he didn't know for sure if he was guilty of some grave crime. His eyes were locked in the whip in his hands so he didn't see how his father and Valiant looked at him with evil smirks.

He didn't either notice when his father got closer to him and answered almost menacingly, “So you can learn how to make your enemies respect you. How to make them fear you.”

Arthur's troubled gaze went from the whip to his father's icy eyes. “But...” he stuttered. He didn't know how to get out of this nightmare. “I have never...”

“'It's easy. You just have to hit him.” Uther noticed his doubts which were clearly visible in his face, so he added for good measure, “It's an order.”

The guards had already turned the man around so his back was to them. They had even gone as far as tearing apart his tunic and his bare back was just there in front of him as they held him firmly. His father continued pressuring him to just beat a man he didn't know at all. “Thirty lashes,” he was saying.

For a fleeting instant, Arthur let himself go along with the moment. He looked at the man's back, tried to imagine that same man attacking innocent people, stealing from poor families or even raping young maids. He raised the whip. He was about to hit him... but he couldn't and so he said.

Uther chuckled. “Perfect. I thought that much,” he said venomously. “You have disobeyed me a second time just in a day. Me, your father, your king. And in front of my men. As if you were a simple rebel.” As he had been saying that, he had wandered around the room but then he suddenly stopped. “And I will treat you as so,” he added threateningly. He gestured towards Valiant and ordered, “If my son doesn't want to flog this scum, he will take his place. Tie the prince there.”

Arthur was so shocked that when Valiant grabbed him forcefully, he didn't resist at all. In no time he was tied to a kind of cross almost hidden in a corner – he hadn't even noticed it – his arms and legs securely fastened to each pole of the cross, completely unable to move.

Meanwhile, Uther ordered the bandit to be released and he was forced to face Arthur's back. The tables had been turned. “This is the punishment you deserve for disobeying me,” Uther said to Arthur as he got closer to him. “And it will be the same man you have pardoned who will punish you. That way you'll see that if you don't crush your enemies, then they will crush you,” the king finished, this time in his ear.

Then he went to the bandit and put the whip in his hands. The man was as surprised as Arthur for the quick exchange in their roles. Arthur himself didn't know how he had ended like that, even tough he had thought about this possibility before. He was trying to control himself once more when he felt someone tearing the back of his red tunic. Then his father appeared again in his field of vision and told him, “You had better beg for my forgiveness,” and he moved back with a smirk.

Arthur, however, kept still, waiting for the first blow to come. He heard how his father ordered the man to hit him, he hold his breath while what he thought was an eternity, but the blow didn't come. Suddenly, it finally came. He felt the burning pain of a whip hitting his bare skin with incredible force and speed. The first lash was soon followed by a second one. And then, another one. And another. His father ordered the man to continue until he said so.

Arthur tried to contain himself not to shout and he simply grunted each time he felt a new hit ripping his skin open. Soon, his eyes started to blur with unleashed tears, but he wasn't going to cry. His father's voice accompanied the sound of every blow as he talked to him. Arthur wasn't able to understand exactly what he was saying but he was sure he just wanted him to ask for his forgiveness. He wanted him to subdue to his will but Arthur wasn't going to do any of it. He must bear it as better as he could.

He didn't count how many lashes he received, but suddenly his father ordered the bandit to stop. “How dare you flog your king's son?” Uther demanded.

The poor man stammered a weak excuse since he was just following the king's orders but Uther was having none of it. “Take him to his cell. For that you're sentenced to death. And tomorrow, it will be my own son who will execute you.”

Arthur heard how the guards dragged the man who still tried to rebel against his sentence. Arthur, for his part, was extremely tired and in a lot of pain. But his mind was clear enough for him to understand that both that man and he had fallen right into Uther's trap. This had been what he had wished for since the beginning. For Arthur to show him he could be as ruthless as him by whipping a man and if that failed as it did, well, Arthur had received his punishment for disobeying his father and now he would have to do something ten times worse than flogging a man. Killing a man. Something he had never done.

Arthur's legs trembled when Valiant untied him and the knight had to help him to stand so that he didn't end like a heap on the floor. Then Uther repeated his orders, this time looking at Arthur right in the eye, “Tomorrow morning, you'll kill him.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a very sad character death.

The whole family was in the little hut they called home but it wasn't a happy family reunion. Everyone, even a sick Hunith, was running from one place to another looking for something, picking up important things, like food, clothes or tools and packing them in bags, wrapped in sheets or anything. All of them were frantic to get away from the place they had always lived in and loved so much, and all because of a man, Cornelius Sigan.

After the worrying words Morgana had told Merlin in the woods but a few hours ago, Merlin made the decision of forgetting everything about getting wood and returning home as soon as possible. He was extremely worried about his mother and he had to reassure himself that she was all right. Then they would talk and do as they saw fit, but first things were first. Morgana's description could very well point to their strange late visitor, a visitor who had disappeared under even stranger circumstances and who could very well be hidden, ready to attack their mother, or hurt her or... Whatever, Merlin wasn't able to think straight as he ordered his siblings to collect everything and head home immediately.

The fact that Merlin found his mother up and about when they arrived didn't help either. Well, at first he was relieved to see she was all right, but then he noticed she wasn't. She was extremely agitated and she had already started to pack some of their belongings to simply leave. It took Merlin more than a few words to calm her down enough for her to tell him what the hell was happening. She was certainly scaring the children who were already shaken enough by Merlin's strange wish to go back home so early without a word.

However, what his mother had to say wasn't reassuring in the least. The late visitor had indeed stayed around. He had even visited his mother while she was alone. And what he had to say was even worst that what Merlin could have ever imagined. After Hunith ordered her little children to start packing everything, she confided in Merlin who the old man really was. Cornelius Sigan. And what he wanted. Merlin.

And it wasn't that Merlin feared for him. No. It was his mother and siblings he was worried about. The sorcerer was well-known for his dark magic. He could use it to get anything he wanted and if he wanted Merlin, he would do whatever it would take to have him. And that might very well include hurting his family to get him to comply with his wishes. That's why Merlin agreed without complaint to Hunith's idea of leaving their until now safe home and risk everything to escape from that man. They would go as far from the Isle of the Blessed, where Sigan was told to reside in a great castle, as it was necessary. He would take them to the other end of the world, if that meant his family would be safe.

And so the sunset found them in this ruckus as they tried to pack the last of their meagre possessions, almost ready to leave for the unknown. “C'mon, c'mon,” Hunith was saying. “Here, pack everything you can.” And she knelt before Morgana to help her with the bag in which she was trying to put one of her spare dresses. The rest of the boys were in a similar state, packing clothes or even some toys while Merlin busied himself with gathering as much food as they could take.

The sound of the windows breaking halted their desperate attempt of leaving. They appeared so suddenly that everyone stopped to look at them as they invaded their home. They couldn't even understand where they had come from – they had heard nothing that alerted them of their presence before they broke the glass of every window in the hut to get to them. And then, it was too late. There were too many of them. Ravens. The whole house was full of ravens. Hordes of ravens were entering through the now uncovered windows and were attacking them.

Gwaine, who was nearer to one of the windows, was the first they tried to snatch away. Around five or six ravens, it was difficult to say, were surrounding him, trying to put his claws on him and when they did, they started to drag him, to guide him towards the now mysteriously open door. For a second, Merlin and Hunith just looked at the scene in front of them with round eyes wide with fear. However, the rest of them were soon in a similar state, a bunch of ravens circling around them with their beaks and claws ready to attack, to lead them to the door and out of the house where surely more ravens or even something worse was awaiting them.

They moved their arms quickly trying to scare them away, but that only infuriated them more and some of them received a peck. Merlin helped Will, Lance and Daegal to hide under the table but that didn't work because the ravens were small enough to get anywhere. He didn't have any luck with his magic either since if he used it to throw objects at the ravens, he could hurt his siblings and he didn't know how to canalize it to send it directly to the ravens. Merlin really wished his father could have taught him more about his gift, but now the best he could do was to pick up a frying pan he found nearby and try to hit the wicked creatures that were invading their home.

Hunith, for her part, had taken Morgana in her arms to protect her and was trying to reach for Gwaine, who was now almost at the door. Merlin wanted to go with them, but he had to take care of his three younger brothers, still huddled together under the table, while he fought against the ravens around them. As he shook the pan around him, he also sent one of the pots flying against some more ravens that had just come in through one of the windows. However, when he turned around again, it was too late. His mother, along with Morgana had gone out, following a distressed Gwaine.

“Not my son!” his mother was screaming. “Give him back!”

Merlin didn't have time to decide what to do, go after them or stay and protect the rest, because Will came out of the table and ran after them, shouting for their mother. He didn't go very far before more ravens attacked him. Then Merlin did the worst mistake. He went after Will to help him, to fight the ravens off with whatever, magic, the pan or his bare hands, and in that second, the ravens knocked the table over and leaped on Lance and Daegal too.

'No, no, no...' was all Merlin could think at the moment. What could he do? Gwaine and his mother with Morgana had already disappeared out of the house. Will was almost at the door and more ravens were dragging Daegal and Lance towards the exit. And all he could do was wave a stupid pan around to avoid the beaks and claws of those vicious beasts that were trying to force him outside as well. The helplessness of the situation caught up with him and he put all the rage he felt in fighting the ravens away to save his brothers.

But all his efforts were for nothing. The more he fought, the more furious the ravens got. So much, that one of them got to peck him near his eye, which gave him such a fright that he lost his balance for a moment and with all those ravens around him, he ended on the floor. He took a nasty fall and soon he was completely unconscious, unable to help his family, while the ravens attacked them mercilessly.

In no time, the ferocious creatures had all the children and their mother in the forest running for their lives exactly towards the place where their master wanted them. All the children but one. Merlin.

 

* * *

  

Pain. Merlin felt a piercing pain somewhere above his right eye. And his head throbbed as if he had hit it with something hard. He was so tired that he was tempted to go back to that blissful unconsciousness. But then he realized something very bad must have happened if he felt like that. Slowly he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that it was already completely dark. He found himself alone on the floor of their dimly illuminated hut, which was really strange. At least there was some light from the full moon that got inside through the windows and the open door.

He took his hand to his head and groaned quite disorientated. He also felt the wound near his right brow and discovered it was just a scratch, although he still had some dry blood. However, that was not important. He could tend to it later. First, he had to find out what had happened and where...He didn't even finish that train of thought. He had barely got up when a mere look around the now messy hut brought back memories about what had transpired. His siblings... His mother... They weren't there. Those awful ravens had taken them away.

How could that be? One moment they were packing and the next one they were fighting for their lives against a flock of ravens with an extraordinary force and intelligence. The only plausible answer: it had to be the work of Cornelius Sigan, the sorcerer who that same day had threatened his mother. The sorcerer who, according to popular believe, was able to command ravens to his will.

Panic bubbled up inside Merlin as he forgot all about how dangerous it could be to go against such a powerful sorcerer and that all that could be a trap to get him, the one he had wanted since the beginning. He gave himself no time to contemplate his options before he went out in a frenzy, shouting for his mother and his siblings, not caring that he was still a bit unsteady. All he knew was that his family had disappeared into the forest, dragged away by ravens.

From there, everything was a bit of a blurry. He ran and ran, but he didn't know where to start looking for them. It was so dark... In his hurry he hadn't taken a lamp and the moonlight that sneaked through the branches barely help him not to fall flat on his face. In fact, he had already tripped several times and he had lost count of how many times he almost ended on the floor. He was so distressed that his mind was unable to help him to think straight, to draw up a reasonable plan to find his family.

Suddenly, he heard a quiet sobbing and his already accelerated pulse got even faster. It sounded like... Yeah, he was sure. It was his mother. It had to be... His poor ill mother, out there alone looking for her lost children. That was something he didn't know if her weak heart could take. Merlin quickened his pace towards the place where the sobbing sounds came from until he saw Hunith lying under a tree and he ran towards her. She was alone. There was no sign of the children.

“No, no... Mum...” that was the only thing Merlin could say as he knelt beside her and took her hand in his. “Mum... Mum,” he mumbled inconsolably.

Hunith squeezed his hand feebly in an attempt to comfort him and tried to stop her tears. At least, now she had her older boy with her and, despite the fact that she didn't want to upset him more, she had to make sure her boy knew about the situation, that he would be able to face it. She had to make sure her children would be all right, but she didn't know how to explain it. So she simply stated in a rasping voice, “My heart hurts. My poor heart...”

“I'm here, mum,” Merlin replied at once. “I will take you home. C'mon, mum, I will.” And he tried to put his arm around her waist to pull her up but she didn't let him.

“Your siblings,” she said as she grabbed his hands and forced him to listen. “Your siblings, you have to find them. You have to save them... It's too late for me but...”

“No, mum,” Merlin interrupted. “Don't say so, I will help you get home.”

His mother shook her head and just that little effort made her let go of her son's hands to lean back against the tree and close her eyes in pain. Merlin didn't want to admit it – he couldn't – but deep down he knew that her heart was stopping slowly but inexorably. She was dying... and there was nothing Merlin could do. His magic... His magic was once more useless since he didn't know what to do with it. All his father had taught him was to canalize it towards inanimate objects to move them or alter them, but he never taught him any real spell or any curative remedy. They had always thought they would have more time, but then his father was gone and now his mother...

Merlin's eyes filled with tears as he mumbled, “C'mon, mum, you have to be strong. You can't leave me...” Then a thought crossed his mind and without thinking he added, “The little ones, you've to think of them. They are at home, waiting for us. The ravens are gone now and they are alright. They're waiting for us.” He caressed his mother's hand and face to make her look at him, although tears had started to fall down his cheeks without him being able to stop them. “They're waiting...” he repeated trying to convince himself more than his mother. “Please, just a little effort.”

Finally, his mother opened her eyes and looked at him with tired eyes.

“They need you as I do,” Merlin said truthfully.

Hunith smiled sadly. “Is it true? Are they alright?”

Merlin nodded enthusiastically. Anything to make her mother happy. To encourage her to go home safely.

Then she stroked his cheeks and wiped away his tears. “My poor boy, you've always been so bad at lying. But I thank you for trying.”

“No, no,” Merlin denied vehemently. “It's true.” But he fell silent when her mother shook her head weakly once more before looking at him intently.

“I love you, my boy. And your siblings... All of you... You're the best thing in my life...” A new stab of pain made her shudder. “My poor children... Just promise me, Merlin, promise me you'll find them. Promise me, one day you'll be all together again,” she requested breathing more laboriously. Her sobs started again while she clutched his hand tightly in hers and placed it over her heart. She knew she was entrusting him an arduous task, but it was the only way to reassure herself that all her children would be all right. And her Merlin, he was a strong kid, he would be able to do it. She was sure he would never fail his siblings and that calmed her a little.

“Mum,” Merlin cried more worried by the minute. “I know I can do it. I can take you home...” He was already thinking frantically of using his magic to levitate his mother or using it to make her lighter in order to get her home safely. There, she would be able to rest and he would think more calmly about their options.

“Merlin, just promise me...” she whispered one last time.

Merlin laid his other hand over hers and answered, “We will look for them together. When you are better. You just have to go back home and when you're better we will find them. I will help you, step by step, we just have to go home.” But his mother's eyes had closed again. Her sobbing had stopped and she wasn't listening as Merlin continued his desperate ramblings. “Everything will be the same again, mum. You'll get through this. Please, mum, please, don't give up, mum. Talk to me. Talk... I want to hear your voice.”

Merlin's eyes were so blurred with tears that he could hardly see his mother's face. He stroked her forehead softly and squeezed her hands but she didn't respond any more. He couldn't even wrap his mind around what was happening because it hurt too much to accept that his mother... No, she couldn't be gone.

“Mum, mum,” he sobbed incontrolably as he hugged her. What was he going to do now? He was alone. His mother... and his siblings... Oh gods, he had to find his siblings. But right now he was unable to think rationally. It hurt so much that he was just able to cry and hold onto his mother, hold onto the vain hope that she would open her eyes and take him home where his little siblings would be safe and sound. But he knew that wasn't going to happen.

Still mourning inconsolably, he looked at his mother through his tears. “I promise,” he swore, “I promise, mum. I will go to Cornelius Sigan's castle. I will rescue them. I won't let anyone hurt them. I promise, mum. We will be together again.”

And as his weeping increased once more, thunder exploded above him, bolts of lightning illuminated the dark forest and it started to rain heavily. Merlin's tears were soon mixed with raindrops as the sky cried with him for the lost of his dear mother.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

At least ten lashes marred the until now unblemished prince's back. But those wounds weren't what hurt him the most. After that awful experience at the dungeons, the prince had finally realized how his father really was. Before that, Uther had only seemed angry and disappointed at him. He had told him, or more precisely shouted at him, that he was a prince, that he had to be a tough warrior, that he mustn't write nor even think for himself, that he should simply obey and become the man his father wanted him to be. And Arthur had been naïve enough to think that he could make the king change his opinion, that with time he would learn to fight better to please him and, in return, Uther would come to terms with the fact he loved writing.

Now, as he laid face down on his bed, he understood there would be no way to change Uther's views. He had told his mother he was old enough to face the truth and that was what he was going to do. He had to face the fact that his father wanted him to be something he wasn't. A ruthless prince, a warrior, a killer. And he didn't want that. In the past, he had enjoyed his training lessons because he thought of them as a way of protecting himself and his people from fearsome enemies, but killing a man, a man he didn't know for sure if he was guilty of some terrible deed, was more than Arthur could do. He could fight for his people, but he wasn't willing to be a murderer.

Arthur hissed, and not because of this dire thoughts, but because Gaius was in the room with him, sat at the edge of his bed, treating his wounds. The same wounds his father had allowed that man to inflict to his own son. And even after that, after the pain that practically burnt on his back, he couldn't hate that man. He couldn't kill him publicly just to please his father.

Now, Arthur could only squeeze a cushion as he bore the pain. Gaius had finished cleaning his wounds and was applying some kind of salve. He was talking with his mother, Ygraine, about all the good proprieties of the dressing he had prepared himself, while the queen simply stood near the bed nodding and fretting over her dear boy. Arthur, for his part, remained completely silent. He didn't feel like speaking at all. And he hardly listened to what Gaius had to say about his remedies. He knew the poor man was only trying to alleviate the situation, but Arthur had more pressing matters to think about. Like avoiding killing a man the following day.

Perhaps he should speak clearly to his father and tell him he wasn't going to do it. But then Arthur remembered how Uther had slapped his mother when she dared to stop him from fighting the king in the training grounds. And just a moment ago... He had ordered that man to flog him. His own son... He wasn't afraid for himself. His father had contemplated impassively how Arthur had endured the whipping without blinking. However, he would perfectly remember how Arthur had pounced on him when he hit his mother. Would his father go as far as hurting her to force him to submit to his authority? He feared he wouldn't like the answer to that question. And then what? What could he do?

Arthur was brought back from his musings when Gaius asked him to lean up a bit and he started to bandage his torso so that the wounds couldn't get infected. Arthur, however, continued ignoring the physician's prattle. He left it to his mother to acknowledge it with quick one-word answers, as he immersed himself in a depressing lethargy due to his inability to find a suitable solution to the problem at hand.

Gods, how could everything have changed so much in a couple of days? One moment he was still a kid playing with swords and enjoying his writing and the next he was forced into this situation – the responsibility of ending a person's life. And all that just because his father had come back home, the same father he had idealised countless times and now had turned to be a heartless bastard who wanted to turn him into something he didn't want to be.

Once Gaius finished patching him up, he left a discouraged Arthur on the bed and had a quick talk with the queen. He gave her a couple of potions, apart from the one he had forced Arthur to swallow down before he started his healing, just in case the pain intensified. He made sure Ygraine understood all his instructions and left with the promise of returning soon to redress Arthur's injuries. The whole time, the prince simply listened to them impassively, not bothering even to look at them. However, he knew perfectly well that when Gaius went out, he was definitely sporting a worried face, with raised eyebrow included. After all, Gaius did care for him a great deal.

No sooner had the physician left mother and son alone than Ygraine sat beside the prince and reached out to stroke his head. Arthur let her do. He knew it had had to be hard for her too. His mother's attitude told him she had suffered at his father's hands before and now she had to be witness to how her husband did the same to their son. It wasn't fair. His mother was a sweet good woman. She didn't deserve that. But why?

“Why did you marry a man like that, mother?” Arthur couldn't avoid asking.

And for once Ygraine was truly sincere with her son, “Because of my people.” Arthur looked at her confused. He didn't expect that at all but then his mother continued with her tale, “His army took upon my kingdom. I had no choice. They would have annihilated us.” She sat beside him as her hand went on with its caressing. “But I won't deny I was stupid enough to think he might be a good husband.” Arthur scoffed inevitably. Ygraine put a hand on his shoulder. “But he did something good.” Arthur looked up at her sceptically. “You. You're the only thing he did right. My boy, so good and caring. You're a good person and one day you'd be a great king.”

“But I fear I won't be like that for much longer,” Arthur confessed his mother, pouring all his fears into her. “He wants me to be one of his tugs. He wants me to kill that prisoner in cold blood.”

Ygraine looked at him directly in the eye. “I know it. That's why you've to go. As soon as possible,” she said sadly.

“You want me to escape from him?” Arthur asked dubiously. That was a possibility he hadn't thought about. After all, Camelot was all he knew and the worst of it was that he felt that with his leaving it was as if he were yielding, as if he were telling his father that he was right, that Arthur was a weak prince and it was all right to despise him for not being able to fight back and defend what he was. “No,” he started to deny as he leant up in his forearms to face her mother.

“But you still don't know him as well as I do.” That statement made him shiver. What else did her mother hide from him about his father cruelty. “He is able of anything to get what he wants,” Ygraine pleaded, “even to you, the son he so much wanted. Look at what he's done to you. You can't disobey him once more.” And although it broke her heart to say it she added almost sobbing, “It's the only way, my boy.”

And then Arthur perhaps didn't see it as a rendition any more but as a way of surviving long enough to face his father another time, when he was more prepared. It was a way to protect her mother and not make her suffer more. “But how can I leave?” he wondered out loud. After all, he was a royal and as such was heavily guarded.

“I have a plan,” his mother whispered.

 

* * *

 

The sun shone brightly upon the Escetir forest, contrasting vividly with the terrible storm that had raged for hours the previous night. However, now everything was extremely calm in the forest, the only sounds that could be heard those of the animals that lived there peacefully. In fact, there was no trace of the annoying metallic noise of axe cutting wood as it happened every day. And that was because the woodcutter of that forest wasn't working that day and he probably wouldn't work for a long time either.

Midday found the young woodcutter in front of his hut, knelt before two tombstones, a travelling bag next to him. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he contemplated both graves. The first one was his father's, Balinor. When he died, Merlin's siblings were too young so he was the only one to help their mother to bury him there, near their home. Hunith carved the name of her dear husband on the stone herself and, although some years had already passed, the family never forgot him. They still put beautiful wild flowers on his tomb almost every day. But it seemed they wouldn't do it any more.

The second fresh grave was his mother's, Hunith. It was just beside his husband's and it also had a tombstone with her name and some flowers. This time it had been Merlin himself who had done everything alone. He had been the one to wrap his mother's body in a shroud, after checking for the nth time that she wasn't breathing any more. He had been the one to dig the grave and bury his mother. He had been the one to crave her name on a stone. And now he was the only one there to mourn her.

It had taken him quite some time to bring himself to realise the true extent of the horrible events of that night, the worst longest night of his life. In fact, at first he had taken his mother home, with some help from his magic, only because he couldn't bear looking at her lying on the forest floor under the rain. Once in their little hut, he had lit the candles out of habit. It had been so empty without his siblings' laughter and his mother's admonitions that a fresh wave of tears had made his way up his eyes again. He had spent the rest of the night keeping vigil over his mother, still half expecting her to wake up.

When the first shafts of light had announced a new day, Merlin had had to force himself to remember that other unfortunate day when he had helped Hunith to bury his father and, like an automaton, he had done his best to put his mother to rest. Not really believing all that had happened just in a few hours. Not really accepting that his mother was simply... gone, that he would never see her sweet smile or hear her soft voice as she asked him to be careful.

But now, kneeling before his parents' tombs, he had finally understood. It was time to let her go. He had lost both his parents. He would never forget them, but there was nothing he could do for them any more. But his siblings... He remembered how his mother had insisted him to find them... Gods, his siblings. How was he going to tell them that their mother was...? And yet, he felt relieved that his siblings hadn't had to go through all this. He would find a way to tell them more gently. He would tell them their mother was in a better place and they would have the comfort of knowing she had had a happy life, her only regret not being able to watch her little children grow up.

But Merlin would be there for them, for his siblings. Because he would find them. That was his purpose now. His siblings needed him and he would do anything to save them. He had promised his mother and now he knew what to do. There would be time to grieve her later since he knew he would always grieve for her. Now, however, it was time to go. It was time to keep his promise.

As Merlin caressed his parents' tombstones one last time he swore once more, “I promise one day we would be together again. Wherever they are I will find my siblings. I will break them free.” He kissed his fingers and put them above his parent's names as a way of kissing them goodbye. “Dad, mum, please, help me.” Then he stood and picked up his travelling bag with the few things he had deemed necessary for his journey. “I will come back and then I won't be alone.” He sent a last glance to the small hut where he had always lived and to his parent's graves before departing towards the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
